


soldier on

by hooknleather



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Head Boy James Potter, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Loss of Parent(s), Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hooknleather/pseuds/hooknleather
Summary: But how could he keep breathing now when they didn’t anymore?
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Kudos: 9





	soldier on

There was a shift in the air the moment the letter landed in front of him, his senses had heightened. He could hear, smell, feel everything around him as time seemed to slow. He heard the rustle of parchment as he slid the letter out of the envelope. Heard the soft laughter echoing down the long breakfast table. Smelt the eggs and the bacon and the hot porridge. Saw the dried black ink spelling out the words that he had been dreading. Felt the cold ice of fear and heartbreak rush down his spine. Felt his body moving before his mind could catch up, the letter dropping into his porridge as he clambered off the bench. 

He felt his feet pounding against the hard stone floor while he heard the yells of his friends behind him, heard the small intake of breath as Sirius read the letter. He felt the cold pellets of rain hitting his face, soaking his clothes to his skin as he raced out of the castle. Stone floor turned to sodden grass as he ran. The rain turned to tears on his cheeks, the saltwater mixing with the fresh as he gasped a rough sob into the autumn air. He tasted salt on his tongue. 

He felt his hands and knees crash against the wet earth, not caring as mud caked him. His body was ice; but he was numb from the cold. Numb from everything. They were gone. 

They’d contracted the pox right before he had left for Hogwarts for his last year, he’d hardly been allowed to say goodbye for fear of contagion. The healers had forced him and Sirius, promising that everything would be fine, they’d recover within a matter of weeks. 

But dragon pox could be fatal, if caught by the right person. Or people. His parents had been old, in their mid-forties when James had arrived. And now they were gone. Lives extinguished by a stupid virus. And James hadn’t said everything he’d wanted to, hadn’t prepared himself for this. 

He sucked the cold air into his lungs, trying to remember how to breathe. But how could he keep breathing now when they didn’t anymore? Their hearts no longer beat in their chests, their kind eyes would never smile at him again. 

James wasn’t alone, he would never be alone. His family extended far beyond his parents. He had three brothers, one was legally his brother now. He had a friend he likened to a sister, he had a team that looked to him as captain. He had teachers that respected him and he respected in return. And he had her. He had Lily. 

She liked him now, maybe she even loved him. She’d asked him out for the first Hogsmeade weekend in October, had kissed him there in the middle of the street. She held his hand in the corridors, stole secret kisses in broom cupboards and empty classrooms when they were supposed to be doing rounds. She let him rest his head in her lap in the common room, her fingers stroking through his hair. He was hers and she was his. 

So it was no surprise when James felt her warm hands against his ice cold skin, fingers hooking beneath his chin to lift his head to meet her gaze. Like him, she had tears on her cheeks. 

Lily Evans never failed to amaze him, in how deeply she felt. To call her an empath was an understatement, she truly experienced everything that the people she loved was going through. She had cried with Remus when he had told her about his lycanthropy. She’d moped with Sirius after he’d seen Regulus hanging around with the blood supremacists. She’d sat with Peter after his mother’s surgery. 

She had never met them, only smiled as James told her stories about them. Yet she still cried with him, mourned their loss in the rain with him. Her eyes were sorrowful, her heart on her sleeve as she kept one hand on his cheek whilst the other moved to prise one of his from the mud. She didn’t care about the dirt. 

And James loved her for it. Loved her so much that he let her tug him from the grass, lead him up and onto his feet. Let her wrap her arms around him and tell him it was alright. Let her pull him back up into the warmth of the castle, past Filch who looked murderous at the mess they were bringing in. Let her take him all the way to the Headmaster’s office, sit him down in a chair opposite Dumbledore’s desk beside Sirius. 

Her love let him listen to what the Headmaster had to say, to accept that he was allowed to return to the house he now owned for a week with Sirius, for the funeral, to grieve. His hands reached for Lily once the conversation was over, but she was gone. So he fumbled instead for Sirius’ hand, feeling the shakiness there that mirrored his own. 

The two of them spent a week drinking, crying, falling asleep in bursts in one of their beds in the house that had once felt so alive. Now it was just empty without Euphemia and Fleamont. It was agony being there. James saw his mother in the kitchen, making him a hot chocolate to ease his pain. He saw his father in the study, surrounded by books and parchments, teaching him something new about history or potion making. He saw all of them on the grounds, stretched out under the stars as Fleamont pointed out constellations, or in the air as Euphemia taught him how to ride a broomstick. The house was full of ghosts, echoes, imprints. 

Returning to school felt almost easy. James threw himself into studying. He spent long hours holed up in the library when he should have been at dinner or sleeping. He no longer acted out in class, instead he usually just stared out of the window or at a random point on the blackboard. 

He yelled at the team at Quidditch practice, threw his anger and rage into flying and throwing the Quaffle. He had to end the session when he made his Seeker burst into tears under his wrath. 

Autumn had melded into Winter, not that James had noticed in his grief. He rarely ate, his Quidditch-borne muscles withering, his broad shoulders turning lean and bony. Sleep evaded him, bags growing under his eyes, his cheeks turning sallow and gaunt. 

Most nights he found himself in the clocktower, the thud of the pendulum behind him as he sat against the wall, looking out of the large circular window that overlooked one of the many courtyards. The hours passed with that constant thud, the hands of the clock clunking every minute. 

Most nights he was alone, some Sirius joined him. But Sirius healed faster, or maybe he burrowed his pain deep down inside him, letting Remus’ arms console him. But James couldn’t move past it, couldn’t hide his pain. 

But one night, a month after, Lily found him in the clocktower. It was cold, he’d not cared to close the window. His eyes were closed, his head against the wall. 

He sensed her before he saw her. He heard her tentative footsteps against the floorboards. He breathed in that soft, gentle scent that always surrounded her, a fragrance that always reminded him of sunshine. He heard her quiet, nervous breaths as she approached. He felt the warmth of her body as she settled herself down next to him, and heard the quiet rustling of her pyjamas. 

“Hi.” She said quietly.

His eyes opened and he looked at her then and almost felt himself break as he looked in her eyes. Soft green dappled with gold. He felt his heart beat then for perhaps the first time in a long time. He remembered how much he loved her, remembered how patient she had been with him over this month. Patience when he fell into his own head, patience when he yelled at her and their friends. 

“Hi.” He replied, his voice cracking a little. 

His heart beat again when she smiled at him, when her gentle fingers brushed his hair out of his eyes. When they adjusted his perpetually crooked glasses. When they slid down his face to rest on his cheek. 

“Please.” He whispered, staring at her. And he knew she knew what he was asking, begging for what he knew she would give him. And she didn’t hesitate. 

She pressed her lips against his, letting him soak in the pure ecstasy that was her kiss. His hand moved to rest on her waist, his body leaning instinctively into hers as he kissed her back, matching every nip and tug, every swipe of her tongue against his. She tasted like hot chocolate and sleep, and he knew she had ventured down to the kitchens when she’d woken in the night for a cup of her favourite drink. 

Maybe she had needed this as much as him. She whimpered into his mouth, her body moving until she was sitting in his lap, their chests pressed tight together. Her hand moved from his cheek to run through his hair, while his arms wrapped around her to hold her impossibly closer. 

They were panting when they were done, foreheads pressed tightly together. They were breathing, their hearts were pounding. And James knew that maybe he would be okay, knew that even though his parents were gone, he would be okay. Because there were more people that loved him, that looked after him. He had a family beyond his parents, and while their loss stung, he would be okay without them. They were in a better place now. 

“I love you.” He whispered to Lily after a time, when her mouth had moved to pressed gentle kisses against his neck. 

“I know.” She mumbled back, biting gently against his shoulder that led to a small gasp falling from his lips. She pulled away, smiling as her fingers traced over his cheek again, her thumb swiping over his lower lip. “I love you too.”

He would soldier on. For her. For them. For everyone. For Lily. 


End file.
